


Tales from the Pegasus Galaxy

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sue enlists the aid of John, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon to write Sel a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tales from the Pegasus Galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> More self-insertion fic set in Atlantis. I owed Seldear an Atlantis fic for some graphic work she did for me and had trouble actually being able to write a fic for her and then I came up with the idea of having the Atlantis quartet write Sel stories. This is the result.
> 
> Originally posted April 2007.

**TALES FROM THE PEGASUS GALAXY**

“I need some help.” 

Sue tossed down four yellow letter size legal pads, a box of number two pencils and a dozen of the highly coveted black gel pens (just recently imported by the Daedalus) in the middle of the dining hall table. 

“Hey!” McKay yelped, grabbing his plate and cradling it against his chest. “Watch out for my cake!”

Sheppard frowned, but Sue noted he managed to snag several of the gel pens, tucking them into one of his many pockets. Teyla looked on curiously and Ronon continued to munch down on a huge helping of chocolate cake. 

“What kind of help do you require, Sue?” Teyla asked.

“Sel is feeling overwhelmed and I feel bad because I owe her so much fic and since I can’t seem to write anything, I need each of you to write a story for her.”

“A story?” John asked, his expression distinctly alarmed. “What kind of story?”

“Give me one of those,” Ronon rumbled, setting aside his plate and reaching for one of the yellow pads. He dumped the pencils out on the table and looked at Sue, his dark eyes gleaming. “We can write about anything we want?”

Sue eyed Ronon warily. “Yeah…pretty much.”

“Good,” he grunted. Abandoning his cake, he scooted his chair over to a nearby table, his dreads falling over his shoulders as he bent over the paper, scribbling away. 

Okay, that was…different. Sue looked back at the three left at the table.

McKay sat with his arms crossed over his chest, looking smug. “So, let me get this straight. Your muse has deserted you so you’re turning to us in your hour of need?”

Sue wasn’t sure she really cared for his attitude, but then again, she was the one asking the favor. “Yes, I need your help.”

“Just so we’re clear on that,” Rodney added. 

“A story?” John asked again. “About what?”

“Whatever you like.” 

“Well, I mean…should it be fact or fiction? Do we write about ourselves or make something up?”

“It doesn’t matter, though it’s generally best to write about what you know.”

“You know, this might be kind of fun,” Rodney interrupted. “I always got A’s in creative writing. Of course, I got A’s in most everything.”

Teyla picked up two of the remaining yellow pads and handed one to John. “I will be most interested in reading what you write.”

Even Sue recognized the slight tone of challenge in Teyla’s voice and watched in amusement when John’s eyebrows rose. 

“Why yes…it will be,” he said, his voice silky, accepting the proffered pad.

“How many words?” McKay asked, opening up his ever present laptop.

“Umm…well, I don’t suppose it really matters. A thousand is usually a good number.”

“A thousand words?” John looked vaguely horrified.

“Ten or twenty handwritten pages,” McKay commented. “Depending on how large—or small—your write.” Teyla nodded, but John still looked leery. 

“There’s no minimum, John,” Sue told him. “Just write until you’re done.”

“Now?” 

Sue looked at the others. Teyla had already started writing in her neat script; McKay was typing madly away and Ronon was still bent over his pad, writing furiously. “Yes,” Sue said with a smile. “Now.”

John looked resigned, but acceded; bypassing the pens he’d pocketed earlier and grabbing another one, making a show of getting ready to write.

“Really, it’s not that hard,” Sue said.

John gave her an evil look. “If it’s so easy, then why can’t your write her a story?”

Rodney snorted, looking up from his laptop. “He’s got you there, Sue.”

Well, she’d walked into that one. Sue bit back her retort and picked up the left over legal pad and one of the gel pens and glared at the two men. “I am going to write a story. I’ve got this idea that involves this really big snake—”

“Been there, done that,” McKay said with a laugh.

“Can we have a little quiet here?” Sheppard snapped.

“Sorry,” Sue said. “I’ll just go over here….” She sat down across from Ronon—where she still had a good view of the other three. Sighing, she looked at the blank piece of paper in front of her and wished for all the world her snake story idea involved Atlantis instead of SG1.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours and three cups of coffee later—for both her and McKay; Ronon was the first finished and shoved his legal pad at her. “There,” he said with a satisfied smile. “All done.”

“Thanks,” she replied automatically, looking down at the scribbled words on the pad. _Good thing she had a lot of experience reading illegible handwriting,_ she decided wryly. 

“Anytime.”

“I am finished as well,” Teyla said from the other table. Standing, she brought her legal pad over to Sue, her neatly written words a far cry from Ronon’s messy scrawl. 

“That’s great.”

“Me too,” McKay said, removing a disk from the CD burner on his computer with a flourish. “Formatted **and** spell-checked.”

“Thanks,” Sue said, gingerly taking the proffered disk. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“John?” Teyla questioned and all eyes turned to him.

He didn’t even look up. “Still writing,” he said tersely.

“I’ll stay here,” Sue said, inclining her head toward John. “You three go ahead.”

“Have fun,” McKay said, packing his laptop. 

John merely waved his hand in response to the goodbyes of his team. Sue sighed and slipped on her reading glasses, picking up the yellow pad with Ronon’s story; it looked like they were still going to be here awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **THE WARRIOR AND THE LADY**  
By Ronon Dex

“Look out!”

Specialist Jadon Denare grabbed Doctor Elyssa Ware around the waist and hit the ground rolling, careful to protect the surprised woman. The tails of his great coat whipped around him, the energy of the weapon blast passing harmlessly over their heads. Lithely rising to his knees, and keeping Elyssa safely behind him, he returned fire and was rewarded with the satisfying thud of a body hitting the ground.

“We need to go to ground.” Standing, he took Elyssa’s delicate hand in his much larger one and pulled her to her feet. “Marshall and his team won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“If we can get to the Stargate,” Elyssa said gamely, “we can dial Atlantis and get a message to them.”

Jadon gazed approvingly at the plucky leader of their colony; even with a streak of mud smeared across one cheek and her dark hair all mussed from their frantic flight, she kept her composure. “That’s the first place Jackocko and his men will look for us. We’ll be better off finding a secure location close to the gate and waiting for the Marshall and the jumper.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “We can radio them as soon as the gate activates and warn them.”

“Good plan,” Jadon agreed. His keen hearing picked up the sounds of men shouting in the distance and he wondered yet again how a supposedly peaceful diplomatic mission had gone to hell so fast. “We don’t have much time.”

Elyssa nodded. “Give me your extra gun,” she said.

Jadon smiled and reaching down, slipped the US Air Force issue nine millimeter out of its ankle holster. “You do remember how to use this, don’t you?”

Elyssa raised an elegant eyebrow. “Of course,” she said firmly, efficiently checking the clip. “I had an excellent teacher.”

Jadon grinned; he had fond memories of the hours they’d spent on the shooting range at Atlantis…standing behind her…bracing her stance…his arms around her as he guided her aim. 

“Jadon?” The gentle tug on his arm brought him back to their current situation—on the run on a suddenly hostile planet and by his reckoning, at least five kilometers from the dubious safety of the Stargate. “They’re getting closer.”

She was right, their pursuers were definitely closer now. “Let’s go.” Trusting her to follow, and determined to protect her, Jadon used all the skills he’d developed during the long years he’d been on the run to lead them away from Jackocko’s men to safety.

~*~*~

“How handy” Elyssa commented dryly several hours later, giving him a dubious look as she studied the shelter he’d found. 

Jadon could understand her caution, the rocky overhang didn’t look like much of a shelter, but with a few strategically placed braches, it would do. Unfortunately they couldn’t be too choosy, the sun was low in the sky and it would be dark soon. He was confident they’d shaken their pursuers but they still needed a safe place to wait out the night. “Beggars can’t be—”

“Choosers,” she finished for him, flashing him a brilliant smile. “Tell me what we need to do.”

It warmed him that she didn’t expect him to wait on her and take care of her, she pulled her own weight, right alongside him. “We need some branches and brush, to hide the entrance. Here,” he said, unsheathing one of his knives. “Use this.”

“Thanks,” she replied, tucking the nine mil in the small of her back and carefully taking the blade from him. “What are you going to do?”

“We need water. I saw a creek not too far back.”

She nodded. “Watch yourself,” she cautioned.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He wasn’t gone long and wasn’t too surprised that in the short time it had taken him to refill the leather bladder he always carried that Elyssa had accumulated an impressive amount of brush and greenery to camouflage their shelter. 

“Nice job,” he commented.

She shrugged in the fading light, suddenly looking tired and pale, but she smiled gamely. “I don’t suppose we can have a fire?” she asked, her voice wistful.

“Best not to,” he said.

She sighed, shivering slightly and wrapping her arms around herself. “That’s what I figured. But I had to ask.”

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get settled.”

By the light of the small flashlight he’d had tucked in one of the interior pockets of his coat, he left Elyssa sitting safely against the back wall of their rocky shelter. A life-time of caution had him using a pine branch to brush away any evidence of their footsteps and carefully arranged the brush Elyssa had gathered at the front of their shelter.

“There,” he said. Placing one last branch at the opening, Jadon backed into their shelter and sat down next to Elyssa. The flashlight provided a soft illumination that Jadon hoped wouldn’t be visible, though he felt relatively sure that the search for them had been abandoned with the night fall. 

“Here.” She shifted against him and the next thing he knew, she held one of the ever popular ‘power’ bars in her hand.

“No,” he said, “you eat it.”

She chuckled softly, fishing around in her jacket pocket again, pulling out another bar and waving it at him. “Eat. We’ll both need our strength.”

She was right, of course. Jadon took the bar from her and they munched on them in quiet. He handed her the water bladder when they were finished and he found himself staring helplessly at her as she tilted her head back to drink, fascinated by the long line of her delicate neck and the slight movement as she swallowed.

“Thanks,” she said, handing him back the bladder. 

He held her eyes then as he immediately took a drink from the bladder, placing his mouth directly where hers had been. It as surprisingly intimate in the confines of their shelter and Jadon knew he needed to temper the attraction he felt for the woman who was their leader when his main concern right now was for her safety. She didn’t look away but even in the dim light he could see the slight flush that bloomed on her cheeks.

“We better get some rest,” he said, his voice rough. Recapping the water bottle, he somehow managed to shrug out of his coat; by the chill already in the air, he knew it was going to get cold before morning. “Here,” he said, wrapping his coat around her. “Lie down.”

“What about you?” Her eyes were troubled and he steeled himself against the entreaty he saw there.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, moving slightly to give her more room.

She pursed her lips and he knew she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t offer any more protests. Of course, he hadn’t counted on her curling up on her side next to him and resting her head on his thigh. It felt good—too good—and Jadon briefly closed his eyes on a heavy sigh. It was going to be a very long night.

~*~*~

“Jadon.” Her voice was soft, but insistent—and she was soft and warm in his arms and he really didn’t want to wake up. He muttered something and tightened his arms around her. The warrior in him was appalled that he’d let down his guard sometime during the night and had fallen asleep; worse yet that in his sleep he’d wrapped himself around the sleeping, defenseless woman he was sworn to protect. But the man in him…the man in him marveled at the wonderfully soft and enticing feel of her pressed against him. 

“Jadon,” Elyssa said again, wriggling slightly.

He groaned then and rolled to his back, biting back a curse when his elbow smacked into the rock wall at his back.

“Are you all right?” she cried.

Jadon opened his eyes to find her staring down at him, her eyes filled with concern. Even after a night spent sleeping on the ground, she still looked beautiful, her green eyes almost luminescent in the early dawn light. He had no illusions as to his appearance—too rough and too hard for a woman like her. But he couldn’t deny the mutual attraction that sparked like summer lightning between them.

“I’m fine,” he rumbled. He sat up and she shifted back on his knees, his coat falling down off her shoulders. He checked his timepiece. “We should make our way to the Stargate. Marshall and his team should be here within the hour.” He started to move but then froze when she pressed one slight hand against his chest. 

“Jadon, whatever happens, I want you to thank you for everything you’ve done. I’d be dead by now if it hadn’t been for you.” She gazed at him with wonder. “The way you dealt with Jackocko’s men…I’ve never seen anything like it. You were magnificent.” She leaned so close that he could see the tiny brown flecks in her beautiful green eyes. “And when we get back to Atlantis,” she whispered. “I want to thank you properly.”

Jadon felt a surge of lust that he quickly damped down; he still needed to get her safely to the Stargate and back to Atlantis before he’d be able to make good on the promise he saw in her eyes. “Whatever you say, Doctor Ware; I’m at your service.”

THE END

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sue slipped off her reading glasses and sat back in her chair. Well, that was certainly interesting. Who knew Ronon had a thing going for Weir? She wasn’t certain the story would appeal to Sel, but then as McKay would probably take great delight in reminding her (and borrowing a line from Ronon’s story), beggars can’t be choosers. Glancing over at the other table, she saw that John was still hunched over his tablet, writing away. It looked like she’d have time to read keep on reading. Putting her glasses back on, she picked up the pad with Teyla’s neatly written story; at least this one would be easier to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **SHE DREAMS**  
By Teyla Emmagan

In the safety and security of her mother’s arms, Rachana dreams. The grass is green and the sky is blue, the sun shines brightly on their encampment. She fears they will not stay here long and she wishes they could stay here forever. The early morning breeze off the sea reminds her of her home, at least what she can remember of their first home. There have been so many different ‘homes’ in her young life that she sometimes forgets. But then she dreams and in her dreams her papa is tall and handsome, smiling down at her. Her mother is young and beautiful and her brothers and sisters are happy, their hearts content and their bellies full of the bounty of their home.

It will not last, even at her tender age she knows it will not last. That which they fear most in the world will come again—the evil that even her papa fears, who is the bravest man she knows. She did not understand before, when the evil would come and they would run and hide, what had happened. She remembered in the before that her friend Deraina would play with her during the day while their mother’s tended to their homes and their children. And she remembered in the after that Deraina no longer came to visit; her parents talking in quiet voices and Deraina’s papa looking shattered and lost.

She understands now, the evil took Deraina, just as it has taken so many of their community. And even the safety of her mother’s arms cannot protect her, just as it could not protect Deraina. 

~*~*~

The year’s pass and Rachana’s dreams are not so different now; though the little girl in her dreams remembers Deraina and the evil and is afraid that it will not last. Her father would say they have stayed too long at this encampment; that they only ask for trouble. But her father is long dead—not from the evil but from an illness that not even their most adept healers could cure. As is her mother…and now she is to be a mother. She runs her hands lightly over her expanding belly and then smiles when she feels Hastin against her back and his arms wrap around her.

He presses a kiss to her neck. “You are up early.”

“Your son would not let me sleep,” she tells him, which is only part of the truth. She doesn’t like misleading her husband, he is a good man and good provider, but she knows her dreams must remain a secret. No one wishes to be reminded of the reason they run. 

Turning in his embrace she smiles up into his dark eyes. “Sarai says that this tiny one,” she takes one of his hands and places it on her belly, “is not due to make an appearance for at least two more moon rises, but I swear, it feels like he wishes to make his exit this very minute.”

Hastin chuckles and they both feel their child move, kicking vigorously within the safety of his mother’s womb. Rachana’s smile dims slightly and she wonders at the wisdom of bringing a child into this world of uncertainty in which they live. But then Hastin kisses her and the warmth and passion she feels in his embrace eases the fear in her heart.

~*~*~

“Mama!” 

“Yes, Banji, what is it?” Rachana does not pause, continuing the rhythmic movement of the mano against the metate, grinding the sweet maize into flour for their upcoming meals.

“Nairi says that once the harvest is finished, we’re going to leave.”

“He is right,” she tells her son. “We have stayed here too long.”

Banji sighs dramatically and plops down on the ground next to her. “That is what everyone says but I don’t want to leave! I like it here!”

Rachana smiles tenderly at her youngest; he had been a mere infant when they had settled here four seasons ago. It has been many years since the evil has visited them; and amongst those who do remember, the memory has faded. She was Banji’s age the last time the evil came and she does not know anymore what was real and what was a dream. But she does remember the overheard words of her papa and the other men and she knows by the feeling deep in her belly that they have stayed here too long.

“It is the way of our people,” she tells her son. “We must not stay in anyone place for too long, lest the great evil return and find us.”

Banji rolls his eyes. “Fadey,” he says, naming one of the older boys, “says there is no great evil.”

Rachana does stop her work then and takes hold of her son by his shoulders, looking into brown eyes identical to his father’s. “The great evil exists and we must always be prepared, never forget that. It can return at any time.”

“Yes, Mama,” Banji says, his voice sullen. He twists free of her hands and she releases him. Sighing heavily, Rachana watches with troubled eyes as he runs off and joins a group of boys playing ball. She thanks the ancestors daily that her family has lived for so long free of the great evil even as the long ago warning of her papa stirs restlessly in the recesses of her memory.

~*~*~

_“Run, run, run! Hide, hide, hide!” Rachana giggles and chants along with Deraina. “Otherwise the evil one will eat your alive!” The girls scream and run in wild circles until they collapse laughing in the tall grass._

In her dreams, Rachana is back in the village by the sea, her papa is alive and young and her mama is smiling and happy. She plays with Deraina and her only wish in the entire world is that her current happiness never end. But even in her dreams there is a great shadow hanging over her that, which try as she might, she cannot ignore. 

Stirring restlessly in their bed, Rachana shivers and feels her husband’s strong arm close around her and she relaxes. They are safe, her children are safe and perhaps the whispered reassurances that the surely the great evil has forgotten about them all these years is true. Rachana searches her memory for the long ago dreams of a small child and the security of her mama’s arms until a long forgotten noise fills the air and terrified screams ring out in the dark night.

“Run, run! Hide! They are here!”

THE END

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow…. Sue shivered and put down Teyla’s story, wondering how much of the story was made up and how much was true—something which she was probably better off not knowing. Setting the pad aside, she took off her reading glasses and looked around the dining hall. She could see the evening kitchen staff busy behind the serving counter and looked at her watch—where had the afternoon gone? It was almost dinner time; the dining hall would be filling up soon. And John was still writing away.

Standing, she stretched slightly and started gathering up all the extra pens and pencils, stuffing them in her bag, along with the stories and the disk McKay had given her. “John?”

“Yeah?” he murmured without looking up.

“I’m going to go find a computer and read McKay’s story.” She took his slight grunt to be an acknowledgement and shaking her head, she left the dining hall and headed to the briefing room. 

As she suspected, it was empty for the day and settling (somewhat guiltily) into the soft leather chair where Elizabeth usually sat, she loaded McKay’s disk onto the ever present laptop and started to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **HOW SCIENCE (ONCE AGAIN) SAVED THE UNIVERSE**   
By M. Rodney McKay, PhD

Doctor Chase Meriwether, triple PhD, the incredibly brilliant and equally handsome leader of the Atlantis expedition, stared at his assembled ‘experts’ with an expression somewhat akin to horror. “The field generator that controls this entire planet’s biosphere is about to explode and that’s the best you have to offer?” he demanded of Major Jan Hunter (how the man ever advanced in the Air Force with such a girly name was beyond Chase). “To blow it up?”

Hunter shifted uneasily in his chair. “Well…yeah,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I mean, if it’s going to blow up anyway, maybe a controlled explosion—”

“That is the biggest load of hogwash I’ve heard since the Nobel committee disallowed my last nomination for a Peace prize because I already had twenty-four!” Chase interrupted, his tone scathing. “There’s only one other person I know who would pull such a ludicrous idea out of her ass. Blondes…” he muttered to himself. 

“Does anyone else have a suggestion?” he queried the group, dragging his thoughts away from memories of a certain blonde scientist. Hunter looked down at his hands; Doctor Isabel Reynolds, Atlantis’ diplomatic leader smiled brightly and shook her head; Daron looked bored. Of course, the only time Daron didn’t look bored was when he was blasting someone. Chase’s eyes rested on Doctor Zbuytnek next, the only other scientist of any merit at Atlantis.

“Perhaps we could—”

“Save it, Emil,” he interrupted the Pole. “Any idea you have will just be a watered down version of something I’ve done before.” Chase sighed heavily. “As usual, it will be up to me to save this race—who are they again?”

“The Pallatan,” Isabel supplied eagerly.

“Right, the Pallatan. As usual, it will be up to me save their civilization. So if you will excuse me…” he said dismissively.

“Doctor Meriwether, should we not have a back-up plan?”

Chase gazed indulgently at the Athosian in the group, she was a dear with all her little suggestions. Too bad she wasn’t a blonde…. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Kayla, in the unlikely event that I’m unable to come up with a brilliant plan to save their planet, we should have a ‘back-up’.” 

The room fell quiet, all eyes on him. “Very well,” he said after a moments thought. “Isabel, take Kayla and visit worlds where the Pallatan might be welcome, if all else fails and the only solution is for them to evacuate their planet. Take Hunter and Daron with you.” 

They all nodded but continued to sit there. “What are you waiting for?” he demanded. “Go!” Chase made ‘shooing’ motions with his hands and watched, shaking his head in dismay as the assembled group slowly left. Some days he wondered how the expedition had lasted as long as it had.

“Chase?” Isabel perched on the edge of the table next to where he sat, trailing a finger lightly along the collar of shirt.

“I’ve already told you I’m not interested,” he told her, batting her hand away. “And anyway, we both have work to do.”

“But Chase…” she wheedled, “I’m just thinking of your reputation. Everyone’s going to think you’re gay if you keep turning every woman down! I mean, look at Hunter! He’s managed to bed at least a dozen women so far and we’ve only been in this galaxy for six months….”

“Isabel,” he said firmly, removing her hand from his knee. “As I have repeatedly told you, this mission takes priority over everything—including my private life. We have a responsibility to Earth and to this galaxy that I will not ignore just to indulge my base desires. And if you have any doubts regarding my sexual orientation, I’ll just refer you to Major Tabitha Carmichael at the SGC, the woman can’t get enough of me.”

“Oh Chase,” Isabel pouted. “If only you hadn’t dedicated your life to making this galaxy a better place for all of us!”

Chase smiled beneficently at the diplomat. “Yes, well, we all have our burdens to bear. Now, run along like a good girl and find a home for those Pallatan’s….” He winked at her and patted her knee. “Just in case.”

Isabel giggled. “Yes, sir!”

Chase watched her as she walked away. Isabel was an attractive woman, but he was determined to bring peace to this galaxy and he couldn’t afford the distraction of getting involved with any woman. It was a pity though, that she wasn’t a blonde. But enough of that, he had a world to save! Now…how was he going to stop that power source in the Pallatan’s field generator from going critical?

~*~*~

Three long days later, Chase reassembled his group of experts. He hadn’t had any sleep in the preceding seventy-two hours and in spite of that, he looked as fresh as if he’d just had twelve uninterrupted hours of shut-eye. “So, what have we got people?” 

He sat listening with growing impatience, stifling a yawn as the scientific teams reported one after yet another pathetic plan to fix the field generator. Isabel and her team reported that they’d found several suitable planets and communities willing to accept the Pallatan, if necessary (and several alien women who requested Major Hunter to return anytime he wanted). 

And as for him, he could see only one solution to the problem with the field generator. “I’ll have to go in and replace the power source myself,” he announced.

The entire room uttered a collective gasp. “But Meriwether,” Emil protested. “That means certain death! All that unshielded radiation will certainly kill you!”

“What’s one life matter in the face of certain death for so many?” 

“Is there no other way?” Kayla pleaded, her voice trembling and tears shining in her eyes. Isabel looked equally distressed, though she said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Chase said. “It’s the only way.

“What will you use as a replacement?” Hunter asked.

“The ZPM.”

“But what about Atlantis? How will the city manage without a ZPM?”

“There’s enough reserve power to keep the city functioning for at least another six months.” Chase turned the laptop in front of him around, displaying the screen, which was filled with writing in Ancient. “I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours translating the remainder of the Atlantean database the Ancients left behind.”

“The instructions are all there on how to build a ZPM. I’m confident that Zbuytnek and the rest of the scientific team will have no problem building a new one.” Chase smiled, though it was a bittersweet one. “It’s quite simple actually, it’s a wonder I didn’t think of it myself,” he admitted modestly. “But I have been rather occupied with other responsibilities of late.”

“You’re a saint, Meriwether,” Hunter admitted. The others gathered nodded solemnly in agreement.

“Yes well…please remember to mention that to the Nobel committee when I’m nominated posthumously for saving the Pallatan’s.”

~*~*~

In the end, it was simpler than Chase had imagined, so simple that Zbuytnek could probably have managed it—probably. It seemed the Pallatanian scientists had been woefully inept at the basic maintenance required to keep their field generator operational. There wasn’t any leaking radiation nor was there any need to for Atlantis to sacrifice their ZPM; all it took was a good cleaning and the replacement of the old, outdated transistors and diodes with silicon chip technology and the field generator was up and running at optimal specs. 

Of course, Chase didn’t tell any of that to the Pallatan’s. What he did was give the Pallatanian scientists a good scolding and an updated operations manual. With any luck, they’d learn from their close call and start taking better care of their equipment. And as for Atlantis? Well, his people were just thrilled and grateful to have their leader return to them in one piece. 

In fact, some of them were so grateful that when Chase finally retired after an evening spent in celebration of his safe return and found Isabel and Kayla both waiting for him in his bed, he decided, what the hell, he’d forego his ‘blondes only’ rule for one night.

THE END

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sue blinked and quickly ejected the disk out of the computer. There were some things she was just better off not knowing…she really hoped Sel would be in an indulgent mood when she read these stories. 

“Umm….” 

Sue looked up, John stood in the doorway, clutching a handful of yellow paper. “All done?” she asked brightly.

“Yeah…” he took a few steps into the room and slid the papers across the table to her. “I’m not sure it’s any good.”

“I’m sure Sel will like it.”

“Yeah, well…we’ll see.” John gestured to the computer and the yellow pads in front of her. “How are the other stories?”

“Umm…pretty good, interesting,” she hedged. 

“Will we get to read them?”

Oh crap…. “That depends on Sel, I think,” she answered, trying not to wince. She really didn’t want to lie to John but…well, she wasn’t sure anyone on Atlantis was ready to read about the adventures of Doctor Chase Meriwether, triple PhD. 

“Okay, well,” he said, accepting her answer. “Let me know what you think, okay?”

“Sure.” She smiled at John as he left; that was one thing she knew she could share with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **A LASTING PEACE**  
By Colonel John Sheppard, USAF

_Disclaimer: The views and opinions offered here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the USAF._

Colonel Luke Givens had always thought he was a man of peace, but now that the war with the Wraith was over, he was learning a painful truth—he was really a man of war. With the constant threat of the Wraith no longer hanging over their heads, Luke found that his duties involved nothing more than providing babysitting services to the scientific teams, which had proliferated once Atlantis was at peace. 

And his team had changed too…with the Wraith gone—it always got back to that—the two Pegasus natives had returned to their homes, their mission accomplished. No more daring deeds and heroic rescues for him; hell they really didn’t need him to operate the Ancient tech anymore. He should have been used to the comings and goings of personnel, but he felt their loss acutely…especially Cyanne’s. Not that there had ever been anything spoken between them, but he had always thought once the war was over…well, he discovered that once the war was over, so was anything between them. 

He’d tried living back on Earth, he’d even taken an extended leave but in less than a month he’d been back at the SGC begging the powers that be to take him back, in any capacity. And sadly, ferrying scientists around in a jumper was better than anything Earth had left to offer him. Which was how he found himself piloting a jumper full of scientist types with only a fresh faced marine as back up when Specialist Tyrrell Dax, formerly of Atlantis, found him. 

“Boo.”

Luke jumped, fumbling for his weapon until he saw the grinning face of his former colleague. He relaxed, blaming the months of peace for not hearing the Satedan sneak up on him. Of course, even when they’d been a war, Tyrrell still possessed more stealth than anybody he knew. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” he asked.

“Looking for you.”

Luke had never considered himself hard to find, but Pegasus was a large galaxy. “How’d you know we’d be here?” he gestured around the open field where the jumper sat. 

“I still have contacts on Atlantis.”

Luke didn’t want to ponder too seriously Tyrrell’s contacts on Atlantis, since he would have thought he was one of those contacts, but he hadn’t heard from the Satedan for six months—ever since the end of the Wraith as they knew them. “So…you’ve found me.”

“It’s about Cyanne.”

Luke stiffened, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anything about Cyanne. While there were always Athosians coming and going on Atlantis, Cyanne had been conspicuous by her absence.  
“What about her?” he asked, striving for casual but failing.

“She’s missing.”

“Missing?” Luke frowned. “How the hell can she be missing?”

“Taregan contacted me.”

Okay, that one hurt. He knew he wasn’t one of the favorites of the Athosian man, but for something like this, he would have thought…. “She’s missing on the mainland?” he asked, referring to Atlantis. He would have known if she’d gone with any of the Athosian delegates through the Stargate.

Tyrrell shook his head. “No…she went missing on Batu—along with a dozen other women.”

“When?” Luke asked, his voice sharp.

“One month ago.”

One month ago…when he’d been on Earth. “What the hell was she doing on Batu?” The colony there was notorious for its connections to the thriving underworld in the Pegasus Galaxy and he couldn’t imagine what kind of business any of the Athosians could have there.

Tyrrell shrugged. “Trading.”

Luke could only thing of one reason why Cyanne and the other women had gone missing. “Slavers?”

“More than likely.”

“What are we waiting for?”

Tyrrell grinned. “Just you.” He jerked his head toward the jumper. “And your ship.”

Luke cocked his head and considered Tyrrell’s request. He might be able to convince their new ‘chief administrator’ to give him some leave, but he doubted Smith would agree to loan him a jumper. Borrowing one on the other hand had certain implications, up to and including court martial. But then…this was Cyanne they were talking about and the thought of her in the clutches of slavers made his blood run cold.

Luke checked his watch. “We’re due to head back to Atlantis in an hour. Just tell me where and when to meet you.”

Tyrrell nodded, a pleased look on his face. “Batu, in two days time.”

~*~*~

Two days later Colonel Luke Givens stole a jumper—along with various other useful items and supplies—and went AWOL. It had been surprisingly easy to make his escape, if it could even be called that. His vast knowledge of Atlantis and her systems made leaving undetected incredibly easy. Of course, it wouldn’t take long at all before they figured he, and the jumper, were missing. Oh, Jenkins, the lead scientist would probably be able to track his movements for the first part of his journey, but after that his trail would be so cold not even a bloodhound would be able to find it.

Luke gate hopped until he was confident not even Jenkins would be able to trail him before finally dialing Batu. And he supposed the one good—and bad—thing about Batu was that no one would give the jumper a second look when she came barreling through the gate. And he hoped no one would give him a second look, given he’d traded his customary black for a more generic Pegasus Galaxy look—brown leather pants and boots, off-white linen shirt with rawhide lacing and a full length brown leather coat. The one thing he hadn’t been willing to give up was his P-90, but he figured anyone who asked about it would have to risk getting shot.

The jumper zoomed out of the Stargate at Batu and a cursory survey of the immediate area showed no reason for concern, so Luke set the ship down in a semi-secluded area not too far from the gate. Luke checked the clip on his P-90, tucking an extra one in one of the interior pockets of his voluminous coat. Batu was anything if not unpredictable. Exiting the jumper, Luke set the cloak and watched as the jumper faded out of sight. Moments later Tyrrell materialized, but this time Luke was prepared and sensed his presence immediately.

“You’re here.”

“Have you found out anything?”

“There’s a cartel that employs a slaver named Bach Yen; he makes a monthly run to Batu.”

“Please tell me that we’re in luck.”

“We’re in luck. Medpeth, one of the local bottom feeders, has a ‘consignment’ for him.”

“And you know where this Bach Yen is to take delivery of his consignment?”

“Oh yeah,” Tyrrell growled, like some giant cat. “I know.”

~*~*~

It was the longest evening Luke had ever spent nursing a beer. The tavern where Bach Yen traditionally stopped for a meal before taking his delivery was crowded, noisy and smelly. But they were mostly ignored by everyone and after a series of polite, yet firm, rebuffs, the local working girls had left him and Tyrrell alone as well. 

They’d been sitting at their table for nearly two hours when the haggard waitress set down two fresh beers at their table and jerked her head toward the door. “Bach Yen,” she murmured. “Just came in.”

Luke casually looked to the door and got a good look at the man who was their best link to Cyanne. A tall, emaciated man with color the skin of teak and dreads that rivaled Tyrrell’s slowly made his way through the crowded room to the bar. Even though Luke couldn’t see any evidence of weapons, he knew Bach Yen would be armed to the teeth—just like everyone else in the bar and on Batu.

“Thanks.” Tyrrell rumbled and passed the waitress what Luke hoped was a good tip, and by the look on her tired face when she took it, it was.

“When do we take him out?” Tyrrell murmured. 

Luke watched through narrowed eyes as Bach Yen stood at the bar, taking a cautious sip of his beer. “Some place more secluded than this. Do we know where his consignment is being held?”

“Medpeth has some holdings on the outskirts of town, on the road to the Stargate.”

“Then that’s where we talk to Bach Yen.”

~*~*~

Luke knew at some point things were going to get hard, so he discounted the ease with which Bach Yen spilled his guts regarding the cartel’s location. One point not in his favor was that he couldn’t specifically remember Cyanne—there were so many girls and all—but he willingly gave over the glyphs to Monserrett with only minimal persuasion from Tyrrell’s large knife.

So it was with a sense of accomplishment that he and Tyrrell left Bach Yen and Medpeth securely tied up and gagged in the latter’s barn and set the dozen or so girls held there free. After seeing the group safely through the Stargate to a secure location where they could find their separate ways back to their respective worlds, Luke and Tyrrell returned to the jumper and prepared to leave for Monserrett.

“That was easy,” Luke commented, the jumper hovering patiently as they waited for the wormhole to stabilize.

“Yeah,” Tyrrell grunted.

“Think we’re headed into a trap?”

“Oh yeah,” Tyrrell replied with a feral grin.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured too.” Luke grinned at Tyrrell and tried to ignore the surge of excitement that flowed through him with the thrill of the hunt—and the prospect of seeing Cyanne again. 

Guiding the jumper through the Stargate with practiced ease, they emerged moments later through a gate located on an island in what was either on a large lake or a small sea. There was nothing visible but sparkling blue water and matching blue sky for miles.

“I see something,” Tyrrell said, quiet excitement filling his voice as he pointed to starboard. 

“Got it,” Luke said. Sensor readings indicated a larger land mass and energy readings and he headed the jumper towards it. 

“Wow,” he murmured as they drew closer. An island appeared on the horizon and rising out of was a huge castle—like out of a fairy tale. Built on the steep cliff side of the island, it rose majestically out of the sea. But as they got closer, Luke realized this was no fairy tale castle, but a very twisted one, more like the castle of the wicked Queen. The castle was dark and foreboding, even in the brilliant light of day, the dark stone parapets adorned with gargoyles that bore an eerie resemblance to Wraith drones.

“Oh yeah…” Luke muttered. “This is a trap.” He set the jumper down in a clearing near the rear of the castle and grabbed a stunner along with his P-90.

“Got a spare one of those?” Tyrrell asked.

“Sure.” Luke tossed him a stunner and once he’d stuffed the remaining clips for the P-90 into his jacket, they exited the jumper. Luke didn’t bother setting the cloak, they were expected after all.

The breeze off the sea was cool and if it wasn’t for the menacing presence of the castle, the island would be his ideal for a vacation. Though it wasn’t obvious, he figured amongst the outbuildings there had to be some kind of hanger for whatever spaceship this cartel favored. Though maybe they came and went to the Stargate by boat—a jetty and boathouse were visible in the distance. 

The lawn was manicured with trees and gardens, the cobbled stone path to the front of the castle lined with planters, bright flowers blooming incongruously in the shadow of the stone castle. When they reached the front entrance, Luke looked at Tyrrell and pointed at the door knocker—decorated with the visage of a Wraith. Tyrrell shrugged and bypassing the knocker, Luke pounded on the door with his fist.

“Whoa!” Luke took an instinctive step back, bringing up his weapon when the door almost immediately opened. 

A pale woman with long dark hair and wearing a long, flowing white dress stood in the doorway. “Luke Givens,” she inclined her head, “and Tyrrell Dax. We have been expecting you.”

“Where’s Cyanne?” Luke demanded, cautiously stepping over the threshold and into the shadowy foyer of the castle.

“This way, please,” the woman said. 

Luke exchanged a puzzled look with Tyrrell, but he saw no other choice and followed the woman down long corridor. It seemed like they walked for miles until they finally emerged in a large chamber. The room seemed curiously at odds with the rest of the castle, the huge bank of windows looking out onto a balcony and beyond that to the sea below, letting in the bright sun. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright light and dark shadows and then he saw her.

“Cyanne!” Luke strode swiftly to the settee where the Athosian woman sat.

“Luke!” she cried, standing and flinging herself into his arms.

He held her tightly, burying his face in her long hair for long moments until he finally loosened his arms and lifted his head. “Are you all right?” he asked, anxiously searching her eyes and face for any signs of trauma or abuse.

“I am fine,” she reassured him. “You should not have come.”

“How could I not?” he asked.

“She is right.”

Luke turned at the sound of a new voice. “Who are you?” he demanded.

This woman had long red hair and a face so pale, she looked like a ghost…or a Wraith, he realized. She was slender to the point of appearing almost skeletal, the blood red dress hanging limply on her gaunt frame. 

“I am Lyssandra, Queen of the Wraith.”

“That’s impossible,” Tyrrell growled. “The Wraith are all dead.”

“You are correct, Tyrrell Dax,” Lyssandra agreed. “My workers and drones are all dead. My only hope has been with this one.” She reached out to caress Cyanne’s face, but Luke quickly pulled her behind him.

“Why is she your only hope?” Tyrrell demanded, keeping his stunner pointed at Lyssandra.

“Her wraith DNA,” Luke said, with sudden insight. “You need her DNA.”

Lyssandra’s smile chilled Luke to his soul. “And we require a fertile male of her species. Someone strong,” she purred, trailing one long, red fingernail down his cheek, “and virile.”

Tyrrell growled something that Luke didn’t need to understand and he acted immediately. 

“Here,” he said, tossing Cyanne his stunner, he let loose with the P-90 just as Tyrrell took aim with his Satedan version. Over the noise of the stunners and the chatter of his P-90, Luke heard some kind of alarm sound. Lyssandra had disappeared and Luke didn’t know if they’d hit her or not, but he wasn’t inclined to hang around to find out. 

“We have got to get out of here!” he shouted. Cyanne nodded and Luke felt a surge of pride in her. Even though it had been months since they’d all worked together, they fell into their roles like it had just been yesterday.

“Right behind you,” Tyrrell rumbled.

Luke nodded tightly and started back toward the corridor that led to the front of the castle. “Okay, not such a good idea,” Luke shouted when the way ahead was blocked by a descending horde of fake Wraith drones. At least he assumed they were men just wearing drone masks, since Lyssandra had claimed all the Wraith were dead. And like earlier, he wasn’t inclined to hang around and find out.

“This way!” Cyanne yelled, leading them to the door that led out onto the balcony. “Quickly! There is a staircase that leads down to the jetty.”

“The jumper is just up the hill,” Luke told her, covering their six with fire from his P-90.  
The bright sun was almost blinding and it took him a moment to find Cyanne, and then there she was, gesturing to them to follow her. He raced after here, Tyrrell hot on his heels and he leapt recklessly down the stone stairs. Once out on the grass, Luke took the lead and they ran up the grassy slope to where the jumper waited. 

“Crap,” he muttered and immediately opened fire at the soldiers surrounding the jumper. Through a flurry of P-90 fire and stunners, they finally made their way to the back of the jumper. Luke immediately opened the hatch and they tumbled in amidst a blazing round of stunner fire from more soldiers descending from the castle.

“Hurry!” Cyanne urged him as he slipped into the pilot’s seat.

The jumper responded instantly to his touch and they lifted off with a slight lurch, but they lifted off none-the-less. “Everyone okay?” Luke asked, taking the jumper high into the atmosphere.

Tyrrell grunted something affirmative and Cyanne shook her head, slipping into the second seat. “She has a dart,” she said urgently.

“Yeah, I wondered about that.” Luke scanned the area around the castle, looking for any signs of activity.

“Do you have any drones?”

Luke and Cyanne both turned to look at Tyrrell. “Why yes…” Luke smiled. “Just so happens I do.”

“We must destroy her, so she cannot carry out this Wraith repopulation plan she has.”

“Not going to get any argument out of me,” Luke drawled, turning his attention back to the controls. Taking the jumper higher into the atmosphere, Luke concentrated on the weapons and they all watched as the air around them suddenly buzzed with the golden fire of the drones. It was better than the Fourth of July, Luke decided, when the drones converged on the castle and the surrounding outbuildings, the resultant explosions blossoming in the morning light. They lingered only long enough to see the smoldering wreck of the castle through the smoke and debris before he turned the jumper back to the Stargate. 

“Not bad for a day’s work,” Tyrrell commented.

“No, not bad at all,” Cyanne agreed.

Luke grinned until Tyrrell asked, “What happens now? You did steal this jumper, didn’t you?”

Cyanne gasped his name. “Luke! Did you disobey orders to come rescue me?”

“Well, not so much disobey them…as in didn’t have them.”

“I am sure once Administrator Smith hears that you have destroyed the last remaining Wraith Queen—”

“We hope,” Luke interrupted.

“The last remaining Wraith Queen,” Cyanne continued firmly. “He will forgive you.”

“And if he doesn’t…” Tyrrell let his hand rest lightly on his stunner, “I’m sure we can persuade him.”

Luke laughed. “Now, I don’t think we’ll need to go that far. I have the feeling that Mr. Smith can be made to understand. Now, the Air Force, I’m not so sure about, doubt I’ll get a medal.”

Cyanne’s touch was gentle when she laid her hand on his arm. “A medal does not matter. What is important is that you came for me.” She turned and looked at Tyrrell. “That both of you came for me.”

“That’s what friends do,” Luke said, his voice husky as he looked into Cyanne’s dark eyes.  
“They take care of each other.”

“Oh, get a room already,” Tyrrell complained from behind them.

Cyanne smiled at him, her eyes sparkling and Luke grinned back, like some besotted fool, but he didn’t care. He was confident that everything would sort itself out once they got back to Atlantis. “Dial the gate, Tyrrell.” 

THE END

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow…and John was worried? Sue sat back in Elizabeth’s comfortable chair and stared out the windows to the quiet bustle in the control room, the lowered level of light signaling it was at least 1900. Good heavens, she didn’t think she’d been that long reading the stories—or that John had taken that long to write his. Gathering up the assorted pads and pages all around her—and hoping she still had John’s in correct order, she stuffed them all into her tote. 

Time to face the authors…and they were waiting for her, huddled together in one corner of the half-empty dining hall. Detouring to the drinks counter, Sue filled a large cup with ice and got some ice tea before heading over to their table. 

“So,” Rodney said, sitting up straight and looking surprisingly nervous for all his earlier bravado. “Will they do?”

Ronon pulled over a chair for her and she smiled her thanks, sitting down and dropping her tote down onto the floor. “Yes, they’ll do. I’m amazed and impressed. Very nice job.”

“Oh,” John drawled. “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

“John,” Teyla chided him. “I’m sure she means it.” Teyla turned to her then. “Thank you, Sue. I found writing that story to be very…healing.

“I thought it was fun,” Ronon added.

“Yeah,” Sue said dryly, “I can see that you’d think that.” To which Ronon merely continued to smirk.

“Just what did you write about, Ronon?” John asked.

“What he wrote about isn’t important,” Sue said quickly. “What is important is that he had fun.”

“Well, I don’t care,” McKay announced. “Anyone can read my story who wants.”

Before John could say anything, Sue said, “That will be up to Sel, these are for her, after all. And if you don’t mind,” Sue looked around the table, “I’m going to go to my room and transcribe the handwritten ones and get them mailed off to Sel as soon as possible.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late into the night Sue finally finished transcribing and polishing the stories, but it was well worth it.

_Dear Sel:_

_This isn’t the story I wanted to write but it seemed to be the only way I could do it. Who knows? There might be something yet to come in the future. But for now, I hope this cheers you up. Happy Easter._

_Sue, John, Teyla, Ronon & Rodney_


End file.
